


be bold, be bold (but not too bold)

by solitariusvirtus



Category: Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms, Original Work
Genre: Found on computer, Gen, Other, dream - Freeform, nonsensical, probably illegible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 12:46:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10101425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solitariusvirtus/pseuds/solitariusvirtus
Summary: Be bold, be bold, but not too bold, Lest that your heart's blood should run cold.





	

“I dreamt a dream,” she tells him, sunless eyes roaming his features with an unsated hunger. Cracked, dried lips remain parted as she shakes the stars from her hair. The drops of light fall to the ground, breaking upon the chalk road, “The weight is too heavy,” she explains in answer to the unspoken question. Bone-straight hair curls upwards gently and small flickering lights come to life within those fine tresses. The sister sighs, “Shall I tell you of this dream? We have yet a long road ahead.” She lights the path with her fine tresses, the sole light to be seen.

“Tell me of your dream,” he agrees, still arm in arm with her. He admires her soft brow and the pale smoothness of her cheeks, devoid of roses in the chilled breeze, and her eyes, shuttered, but deep, swallowing him whole.

Moving his gaze away from her, he looks upon the white chalk road, its narrow ribbon slithering through the trees; trees which have taken monstrous proportions with gnarled limbs covered in thick crust, thin branches twisting, leaves undulating softly. Their song is quiet, so quiet that he has to strain to catch even a few notes of it. But there is something beautiful about it, the melancholy suffusing through the entire forest.

“My dream begins upon this very road.” She gestures towards the pale stretch, fingers spread wide apart. Her lips finally move, twisting at the corners. “You already know this road as well as I do; built by our forefathers, it has seen a great many things.” He nods his head, a few tales springing from a half-memory. But she distracts him, not allowing a single one of them to come into focus. “And upon this road which had seen a great many things, I found myself deep in the night.”

“You want to frighten me,” he accuses.

“Not at all,” the sister denies. “I had no light with me, you see, but for a single spear of the moon cutting through the darkness. It was barely enough to light my way and it showed a single point upon the road, the white chalk road touched by an ethereal light. But I needed to go forth. You know I’ve always wanted to reach the end of the road.”

He jolts. There are many tales about the end of the road. Many a mile lie between the beginning and the end of the road. The stars in the sister’s hair fall once more. She continues. “I walked and walked, the quiet around me an impenetrable blanket. The absence of sound did not bother me. I like the quiet. I’m used to it.” The pitter-patter of their footsteps beats rhythmically against the solid ground. “At long last I came upon something.”

Shivering, he corded his muscle against the stabbing cold. “It was a splash of colour in a sea of nothingness. How bright it was, viscous red and thick. Like gem. Strawberry. How sweet mother’s gem is. But this was not gem. There was no fruit, nor sweet smell coming from the spot.”

At that he grins. She does want to scare him. He can already see where this is going. “What was it?” he indulged her. Despite knowing very well that naught she says might scare him, he gives in to his curiosity and allows her to spin her tale. It may not give him chills, but it should make the trip more pleasant.

“I did not know then, confused as I was, for my mind was filled with gem, you see, but I was going to find out soon enough.” There she stops and hums, another wave of stars crashing to the ground, this time accompanied by a light sound. “I continued down the road, trying to follow the wet trail. The light of the moon, however, was waning. Little of it remained and my trail veered into the darkness. The white chalk road, still lit by a thin streak of light, went on. I was uncertain. Should I follow the trail or go down the road? This was my chance to reach the end, after all. What do you think I did then?”

Pursing his lips, he made a show of considering the two options. “To take the road, or follow the trail? This is a very difficult decision.” He struggles not to laugh. 

“So, what was my choice?” The lilt of her voice puts him at ease, though she sounds more excited now. Her fingers touch the back of his hand, nails digging into her skin. The trail she leaves burns. He doesn’t mind. It’s not painful. Her fingers are slender and the nails are barely sharp enough to break the thin veneer covering his flesh. Reaching out, he takes hold of a stars-adorned tendril and tugs the shining orbs loose. She laughs. “Have you decided?”

“I bet you followed the trail,” he says in the end. And why wouldn’t she? At the end of the road is likely just another road. But the trail may lead to aught of interest. So he waits for her to confirm his suspicions.

“That I did. But not before sitting in the middle of the road for what felt like a lifetime.” It sounds as something she would do. “There was a queer feeling twisting within me, knotting my insides. But I could not resist temptation; for it was tempting, you see, as mystery is so rare a fare. In the end, I climbed to my feet and followed that trail, viscous red and thick and to my great surprise, the moonlight followed, this time falling in waves over what looked to be the beginning of a garden.”

“A garden?” he cut in, slightly disappointed. She was going to drag it on, was she not? Slight annoyance wormed its way within him. “Might be your trail was gem after all. Did you find strawberries within?” Laughter greets his question. “Blueberries then, for aught darker.”

“’Tis dark enough as is,” she answers. “But come now, be bold, be bold, and join me upon the road. Let me tell you about the garden. There was a small wall surrounding it, no higher than my knee did it go and beyond a patch of corn, I think. Tall stalks, sprouting from the ground.” She gestured with her hand gauging the height. It was impressive. “You wouldn’t believe it.”

He did not believe it, in that she had the right of it. A fall of stars rained down upon his feet. “And I presume you jumped right over the wall, did you not?” Bashfully, the sister ducked her head. “Well go on then, tell your brother Fox, what was waiting for you beyond the wall.”  


End file.
